Personal Foul
by TitansRule
Summary: While Don deals with a killer cheerleader, Jess covers the Cabbie Killer and fields calls from the press. Best friend or not, he owes her. Story #42 in my 'Kindred Spirits' series.


**Disclaimer: I don't own CSI:NY or anything else you recognise.  
****Series: 'Kindred Spirits'.  
****Spoilers: **_**Personal Foul.**_

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Personal Foul

"Sir, I understand your frustration, but NYPD has no comment on this case right now." Jess hung up and gave Don a dirty look as he passed her. "This is your fault."

"Yes, dear." Don smirked, dropping into the chair behind his desk.

"That is the fifteenth call this afternoon from the press asking why we haven't arrested the Cabbie Killer yet." Jess told him darkly. "Hey, Don, why am I getting calls from the press asking why we haven't arrested the Cabbie Killer yet?"

Don gave her a sheepish smile. "Maybe because I gave them your card instead of mine."

Jess glared at him. "I am very tempted to shoot you right now." Her phone rang again and she answered it, not taking her eyes off her partner. "Angell."

"_Detective Angell, this is Cindy Johnson from the New York Post …"_

"NYPD has no comment at this moment in time." Jess intoned, hanging up again. "Nor will we ever if you don't give us time to actually conduct an investigation."

"Just make sure you don't actually say that to them." Don advised.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't just tell them they're mistaken and give them your number." Jess challenged.

"Same reason you haven't already done that." Don answered without hesitation. "I've got a case; you haven't; and you know that you're helping."

Jess pulled a face. "Yeah, well you owe me."

"Of course." Don leaned back in his chair. "How's the search going?"

Jess sighed. "Well, the judge refused to sign off on a warrant for the fingerprints and DNA of every cab driver in the city."

"I'm not surprised." Don commented. "It was a long-shot at best."

"Yeah." Jess agreed. "Judge said that we couldn't even prove that we're looking for a cab-driver; the passenger's bill of rights could easily have been stuck in another car, or it could be a cab that's out of circulation and now belongs to someone else."

"Phoebe had a cab in _Friends_." Don remembered.

"Well, fictional characters aside," Jess rolled her eyes, "the point is, our only hope is to ask all cab-drivers to donate their DNA and fingerprints. I'm waiting for Sinclair to sign off on the request; this is too big to just do it."

"Means we've got to wait for him to work out how the mayor's office is going to take it and whether it'll affect his bid for commissioner." Don rolled his eyes. "Fantastic."

"How's your case?" Jess asked.

"Pretty much closed; we know who did it, we just have to find them." Don told her.

"What are the odds that you and Danny were at _that_ game?" Jess shook her head. "It's unbelievable. So who was it?"

"Head cheerleader." Don answered. "Lipstick was laced with poison."

Jess remembered the cheer squad coming in to donate prints. "I bet that was fun to watch."

"I love my job sometimes." Don grinned. His phone went off and he glanced down at it with a grimace, ending the call.

"Nothing to do with the case, I hope." Jess remarked.

"Devon." Don sighed.

"You still haven't broken up with her?" Jess rolled her eyes. "Tell me you're not going to just stop taking her calls and hope she gets the message."

"Of course not." Don rolled her eyes. "I'm figuring out how to do it."

"The longer you leave it, the harder it'll be." Jess advised. "You just need to grow a pair." She sniggered at the outraged expression on his face.

Before Don could respond, his phone beeped and he answered it, disappearing further into the precinct.

Jess shook her head with a fond smile that vanished when her phone rang yet again. Best friend or not, Don owed her.

* * *

That evening, thoroughly exhausted, Jess was slumped on her couch, trying to muster up the energy to order dinner.

A knock on the door forced her to her feet and she opened it to find Don standing outside.

"You get your killer cheerleader?" Jess asked.

"Yeah." Don answered, his gaze fixed on her. "What are your favourite flowers?"

Caught off guard, Jess took a second to process the question. "Erm, orchids; why?"

Don grinned, producing a bouquet of said flowers from behind his back. "Am I good, or what?"

Jess's gaped at him. "Don, they're beautiful. What are you up to?"

"What?" Don stepped into the apartment. "You've been amazing the last few weeks and I've kinda taken advantage of that a little, so I thought I'd make it up to you. How am I doin'?"

Jess smiled, taking the flowers from him. "So far, so good."

"You hungry?" Don asked, placing a carrier bag on her kitchen counter.

"Starving." Jess admitted.

Don glanced back at her. "How's lasagne sound?"

"Sounds great." Jess hopped up onto her counter. "You cooking?"

"Don't sound so surprised." Don chided. "I can do that." He pulled a container out of the bag. "Actually, I made it last night, so I'm really just heating it."

"I'm not surprised." Jess insisted. "I just never thought I'd see you cook."

"My grandmother's recipe." Don explained. "It's a bit like the corned beef one, except this one's not such a state secret."

Jess laughed, but couldn't help feeling a little awkward. "How're things going with Devon?"

"Well, I still owe you back for that 'growing a pair' comment you made earlier." Don told her. "And I still haven't ended things. Why?"

"Well … Not that I don't appreciate all this," Jess touched one of the petals gently, "but I'm starting to feel like the other woman."

Don chuckled. "You're not."

"I know." Jess grinned, trying to hide the emotion behind it. "I'm your best friend."

"Not just that." Don slid the lasagne into her oven and turned to face her, blue eyes uncharacteristically serious. "'The other woman' implies something superficial, less important. You're _always_ going to be important to me, Jess. And any other woman in my life are gonna have to accept that."

"I don't know if I could." Jess said quietly, her statement heavier than he realised.

Don kissed her forehead. "Well, they'll have to. Because I'm not losing you." He looked at her intently for a second, as though he was going to say something else, but then it had passed and he had moved away from her. "How many more calls did you get today?"

"Too many to count." Jess answered, taking the change in subject gratefully. It wasn't that she didn't love hearing that he cared for her, but it got a little painful, knowing that that affection was, and always would be, platonic. She didn't trust herself in that situation for too long.

"I'll tell them it's my case if you want." Don offered.

Jess smiled. "No, it's okay. We both know I'm less likely to lose it with them. But I want in."

"Fifty percent of the collar." Don promised. "You'll know it when I know it."

"So how did the cheerleader interrogation go?" Jess asked. "You never told me."

Don sighed shaking his head. "Two years ago, she went to the game with her boyfriend and won the million-dollar basket – the victim began taunting her because she was overweight, her boyfriend was so embarrassed he dumped her and she spent the next two years having surgery, losing weight and getting onto the cheer squad just so she could kill him."

"Wow …" Jess murmured. "She must have been really humiliated."

"I can never decide whether or not I hate cases like this." Don commented. "On the one hand, the guy was a prick; no one I talked to had anything nice to say."

"And those cases are better than when the person killed was a great person and everyone loved them." Jess finished, knowing what he meant. "But at the same time, you feel guiltier when you arrest the person."

"Exactly." Don agreed.

"Not this time though?" Jess asked. "I mean, I feel for the girl; I can't imagine how humiliated she was, but she made it better. She could have wallowed in misery, but she didn't. She made her life better; she lost 180 pounds of dead weight …"

"Hold on." Don interrupted. "I saw the photo; she wasn't _that_ overweight."

Jess rolled her eyes. "I was referring to the boyfriend. My point is, you go to all that trouble and then throw your life away? I feel sorry for her."

"For her?" Don repeated. "The guy won a million dollars and _died_."

"You'd be surprised what an effect being humiliated in front of hundreds of people can have, Don." Jess said darkly. "The cheerleaders at my school used to pick a freshman every pep rally and get the entire crowd chanting insults."

"The entire crowd?" Don frowned. "That doesn't sound like you."

"I never went." Jess told him. "The first one I went to, they picked a classmate of mine. He went home and hung himself. To this day, it feels like I was the only one who cared."

Don scowled. "I hate cases like that."

"Sometimes I wish I could knock some sense into these kids." Jess admitted. "The teachers don't seem to. They say that words can't hurt, but sometimes they leave worse scars than a beating."

"And we see the results of those scars every day." Don sighed.

They lapsed into a comfortable silence, which was broken only by the oven timer.

"Dinner." Don announced. "That's enough moping; you're about to experience the best lasagne you will ever eat."

"Someone's confident." Jess teased as he pulled a chair out at her kitchen table for her.

Aside from the time she'd called his mother and presented him with his favourite childhood meal after a bad day, this was the first time they'd actually had a proper meal together.

Actually, second, but that lunch while they were shadowing Amber Stanton didn't count; however nice a restaurant it was, neither of them were dressed for it and they were working.

This was different, more intimate, and she smiled, noting yet again how his sense of chivalry was ingrained in him and, though patronising or chauvinistic in other men, was strangely endearing in him.

"That's because I've eaten this before." Don told her, handing her a plate.

"I should warn you, Don; I've had some amazing lasagne before." Jess informed him, taking a bite.

"Well?" Don prompted, with a smirk on his face.

"Oh my God …" Jess murmured. "This is like heaven covered in cheese."

"Never heard it described that way before." Don chuckled. "So I was right?"

"Yes, you were right." Jess admitted. "Don't get used to it."

**

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AN: So it's snowing on and off and I've got a Child Development seminar in fifteen minutes; cheer me up and leave a review please!**

**Oh, and while I have your attention (I hope), I'm thinking of setting up a CSI:NY online guide, similar to jelenamichel's NCIS guidebook (check it out if you're a fan; it's brilliant) – who thinks it's a good idea?**


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